


those powers not delegated

by Val Mora (valmora)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Everyone is Bisexual, Legal Drama, M/M, do not write rps about people you actually know, matt making jokes about his disability, publishing, romance novels, thinly veiled fictionalizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/pseuds/Val%20Mora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy turns the paperback over. "<i>After his best friend talks Del Cash into giving up a prestigious position at a high-ranking legal firm in favor of what amounts to public defense... </i>Is someone seriously writing bad legal thrillers about us going after Fisk?"</p><p>"Yes," Matt says. "You should read it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	those powers not delegated

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/3230.html?thread=9023390#cmt9023390) on the Daredevil kink meme.
> 
> Title is a loose quotation from the 10th Amendment of the US Constitution.

_"'But that's not going to stand up in court, I mean, not without substantive proof,' Gabe pointed out, and leaned back in his chair, pushing up his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose,"_ blare the headphones of the woman in front of him in line. 

Matt cranes an ear towards her. Definitely an audiobook. 

_"'We'll just have to find some,' Del said."_

Two steps forward as the next person goes to the register to order their coffee. 

_"'Yes. We will.' Gabe's voice was heavy, determined, and Del wanted to find the paper trail for him, to give him the satisfaction of justice being done._

_"This ends disk one of No Quarter, Book Three of the Rights Series. Disk two. Chapter six._

_"In the end, Cathy was the one who found it, because assistants were really what held the legal profession together – "_

At which point Matt decides he likes the author's style, and maybe it's time for some audiobook listening.

 

Three days later, Matt throws what the librarian assured him was a copy of _Redress of Grievances,_ the first book in the series, onto Foggy's desk, and says, "I have no idea who is writing these but it's disturbing."

Foggy turns it over. " _After his best friend talks Del Cash into giving up a prestigious position at a high-ranking legal firm in favor of what amounts to public defense, he thinks this might be the end of their friendship, and definitely the end of a steady paycheck. At least, until a small tenancy case turns out to have connections to influential members of the city underworld, and doing good works might just be bad for their lives._ Is someone seriously writing bad legal thrillers about us going after Fisk?"

"Yes," Matt says. "You should read it."

 

Foggy turns a page.

"This is disturbing," he says.

"I know."

"It's not even the legal stuff! It's like the author actually knows us! There's even a reference to that thing you do, with the Thurgood Marshall!"

"That's not a thing."

"You have a mancrush on Thurgood Marshall."

"It's deep admiration and respect."

"Yeah, see, that's a euphemism even for Gabe O'Malley."

"What?"

"Oh, yeah, according to the Internet in like book two Gabe confesses to jerking it over judicial rulings. It's not really clear whether he's joking."

"He's joking," Matt says, and then, awkwardly, pretends that he didn't just answer for a totally fictional character obviously based on him.

 

It takes a few days for the next book in the series to come in at the library branch he uses, by which time Foggy has stopped talking about them, probably because he's gone on to some other book. He's always had a short attention span for pleasure reading.

Del – short for 'Delano Cash,' so transparent that if it weren't clearly meant as a positive portrayal, Matt might be seriously considering whether it would be worth making trouble for the publisher - is in the middle of a conversation with his ex-girlfriend and frequent lunch date. The scene includes such lovingly detailed descriptions of their brunch drinks that Matt's sort of worried about whether the author's an alcoholic.

_"I just – he's been different lately," Del said, and Mary nodded._

Matt chops up some pepper for his omelet. Breakfast for dinner: not just the domain of college students. The sound of the knife going through the vegetable onto the cutting board, crisp and sharp, overpowers the audio player.

_"It's not girls, is it?"_

_Del shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "I don't think so. He's not good at long-term."_

Matt swipes the pepper chunks off the cutting board and into the bowl for the omelet fillings, and misses the next few seconds, up until: _"He wants to get married."_

He twitches. Some of the pepper chunks go onto the floor. How did the author know that about him?

_"Not before he has sex, I hope," Mary snorted._

Well, not quite.

_Del swallowed. He could see, like light glancing off a mirror, the memory of Gabe turned towards him with that unfocused, content expression he'd worn sometimes, when he was morning-sleepy and they were alone together in their apartment. Del wanted to be able to go back to bed to that look and all the warmth it meant._

Matt's whole body goes cold, a hollow opening up in the pit of his stomach. He – it's stupid, it shouldn't matter that much, it's just a book. It's just that he wears the glasses in public because people've made comments about how it bothers them that his eyes don't track or focus, and to think that Foggy – that someone – that _Foggy_ might not mind, might love it as some whole part of him. Might – 

He turns the audiobook off. Forget dinner; he's not hungry anymore. If this ends badly in the books, he needs to know now.

 

According to the Rights Series wiki, they almost kiss at the end of book two, and have been studiously avoiding talking about it until the end of book three, where they actually kiss – under false pretenses. Book four is publishing next month.

The author's blog FAQ #3 reads: 

_Q: Are Del and Gabe ever going to get together?_

_A: Yes! But they're going to have to work for their happy ending. My editor's a sweetheart, though, and agreed to let me write explicit sex scenes into the books starting with book five, so if you have strong feelings about who should top (like I know you all do; I track the #rightsseries and #delriel tags on tumblr), you should write me very persuasive but non-fanfictional emails about it. I don't guarantee that they'll get together in book five, just that I'm allowed to write sex scenes._

That tone sounds…familiar. Somehow. He can't quite pinpoint it. The tone is so different from the voice used in the books, but that's natural – the author, Madison Holt, isn't Del Cash.

At least he knows it's going to end well. He goes back to his dinner, and his audiobook.

 

_'I never said,' Gabe said, 'because it never mattered.' He hunched his shoulders. 'Marriage – marriage is important to me. It's a sacrament. If I couldn't get married, it wasn't going to be what I wanted. And then the law changed, but you still thought I…. I couldn't tell you.'_

_'You don't have to be dating more than one gender to keep your bisexual card!' Del said, like an idiot, because that was really what he wanted to do right now: yell at Gabe for coming out to him. 'Sorry. I just feel like it means you didn't trust me, but this really isn't about me, so. Thanks for telling me. I will now attempt to fix you up with hot girls _and_ guys.' He wanted to give Gabe a gentle punch to the shoulder, like a friend, but that would've been weird, because trying to hook Gabe up with guys would be the worst, most self-flagellating conflict of interest in the universe, and he couldn't take it at the moment._

Matt uncurls from the couch enough to turn the player off. His stomach hurts, and his hands are shaking.

He should stop reading these. It's too close to some of his own fantasies. 

He'll finish book four – he's already most of the way through – and the next book doesn't publish for six months, so by then he'll have forgotten it. Probably. Maybe.

 

His hand is in the crease of Foggy's elbow. Not like before, but there's a considered trust in Foggy's choice to help guide him again, and Matt's grateful beyond words for it.

"I just," says a woman from behind them, "don't really buy that Del would just forgive Gabe for keeping it a secret all those years, especially when Del's been openly bisexual the whole time."

"Maybe he didn't figure it out until after law school," her friend says. "Not everybody realizes they're queer in middle school."

Aha. Ha. Some blind lawyers were too busy dealing with a couple of other pieces of emotional fallout at the time, yeah. 

Foggy's heartbeat has gone fast, and he's starting to sweat. 

"We should probably sue," Matt says. "Or at least write a cease and desist."

"Probably," Foggy says, tightly. "You ever wonder who's writing them?"

"Probably someone who knew us in law school and saw us again in the news about Fisk. The legal details are accurate, so she's a lawyer, but the arc of book one doesn't really follow the Fisk case very faithfully."

"We didn't know that many people in law school well enough to write us that accurately," Foggy says. "That leaves a pool of like ten people."

"We'll just have to send cease and desists to all ten of them, then," Matt says, and, trying for reassuring, strokes a thumb along Foggy's arm, where his hand's curved into Foggy's elbow.

Foggy tenses, but doesn't pull away. Matt – stops. He got reality confused with fantasy, that's all. 

 

Foggy leans against the door to Matt's office, too casually given his heartbeat, and says, "Did you know Marci doesn't like mimosas? She says that if she wanted to drink orange juice, she wouldn't be having alcohol at brunch."

Matt's mouth goes dry. He remembers that line. It was a defining character moment for Mary, in book two. He _agrees_ with it.

"Hey – hey, no, I've already –" Foggy says, and his hand's against Matt's chest, stopping him from leaving the room. "We talked. She's contractually obligated to finish the series, but I think she's gonna offer us a cut of her royalties, or something. I don't know, we didn't get that far."

"I don't want her money," Matt snaps, then steps back and rubs at the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. Ow. He got smacked there last night when he didn't dodge a punch all the way. He needs to stop doing that.

"I know. Let's talk."

 

Marci sends them a check each. It's a lot of money. Matt doesn't know what to do with it, but he doesn't throw it out, either.

 

He ends up reading book five, anyway. The case is really pretty good, and then – and then, after the court case has been decided in their client's favor, once they've gotten back to the office, Gabe O'Malley brushes aside some paperwork on Del Cash's desk, sits down on the edge, and says, "Tell me it's not just me who thinks us getting romantically involved would nearly be redundant, and wants to anyway."

 

"So there's this series of books that everyone's talking about," Karen says, and then, looking at their faces, "….you know that the main characters are kind of like you guys, don't you."

"They're based on us," Matt says, very gently. "We've spoken with the author. She's a friend of Foggy's." Because even if Karen knows Marci, there's no point in mentioning Marci by name.

"Former friend," Foggy corrects.

"Wow," Karen says. "Awkward."

"Yeah." Foggy snorts. "She took some liberties, though. Matt's orientation, for one."

Matt inhales. Exhales. It's just like getting ready for a punch: if you know it's coming, you can roll with it. Decrease the damage it'll do. "She didn't actually get that part wrong."

 

"I can't believe you told me about your vigilante-ing before you told me – I'm throwing up my arms in exasperation."

"I didn't have a choice about the vigilante thing."

"I _know_. Were we going to die with me thinking you were straight? Because that would be – you realize this is now absolute proof that I'm incapable of being friends with straight people? Do you know how many times I've said to my mom, 'No, mom, I don't spend too much time hanging out with other queer people, because I have Matt, my token straight friend.'" Foggy's chuckle is muffled, like it's into his hand, or a pillow.

"I can be your token handicapped friend instead," Matt suggests. "I didn't like playing double token duty anyway. It's exhausting."

"That's awful," Foggy says, but there's a smile in his voice. "Hey, you know I – I love you, like, you are my best friend. And sometimes you're terrible, but. You have no idea how much you mean to me."

"Yeah," Matt says. His throat feels thick, and he reaches out a hand towards Foggy, on the chair across from the couch, wanting to touch him, as though the sensation of skin on skin could convey how much he means it. "You, too."

Foggy's fingers are cold, when he reaches out in return and takes Matt's hand. It should probably be awkward how long it lasts, but Matt doesn't want to let go, anyway.

 

A couple months later, Matt takes a bad fall and breaks his arm. It's not fun, and it means no going out for at least a month, probably more. It means he's going to have to make a physical therapy regimen.

Foggy invites himself over, the third night after it happens, and starts cooking dinner. Nothing fancy, but Foggy's kind of a whiz at eggs, so pasta carbonara the way he makes it always ends well, and there's this way he does the bacon that Matt can't quite manage. 

Foggy's shuffling around in the drawers, then he pushes them all back and says, too casually, "You still have Marci's check."

"I didn't know what to do with it," Matt admits. "I felt like cashing it would be like saying I was okay with what she did."

"Yeah. I, um, signed it over to Karen. For most of this year's paycheck."

"That was a good idea. Maybe I'll do that. Include Christmas bonus."

"Yeah." The pan sizzles a little as Foggy pushes the bacon around. "Are you okay?"

"Not really." He lies down sideways on the couch, puts his feet on the armrest. "The books are pretty good, though. Fifth one came out a couple months ago. I read it."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't realize it was a romance, at first."

"Yeah." Foggy's heart rate picks up a little more. "That's, um, part of what we talked about. Me and her, I mean."

"I didn't expect to read – y'know, a gay love story, along with my courtroom drama."

"Yeah. I just wish she hadn't been writing about us."

"Yeah."

"I've been waving this wooden spoon around in exasperation about it while dinner burns, by the way."

Matt wasn't listening hard, but he was listening hard enough to know how to respond to that. "No you weren't."

"If this were one of the books, I would be." 

"And I'd be plotting how to get you into bed," Matt says, and the abrupt silence from the kitchen makes him sit up.

Foggy sighs. There's a click of the burner turning off, and then the clatter of the spoon going into the pan. He walks over to the couch, then sits down next to Matt. 

"The worst part about the books," Foggy says, "is that now I can't say – fuck." He puts his head in his hands, maybe ruffles his hair a little. It's hard to tell. "Current posture: utter defeat. Look, okay, part of why I'm so pissed at her is that she took everything I said, okay, and put it on a page, and now the whole world's reading it. So when I say, like, Matt, your vigilante thing scares the shit out of me, but I really care about you, and I do not just mean in the best friends way, it's the worst, okay?"

"I," Matt starts, abruptly flushed hot and cold at once, "I can't tell if that was an actual confession or a rant about Marci."

Foggy sighs, "Both."

Matt reaches for his hand, hits his knee, and feels like an idiot until Foggy grabs his hand in return. "Yes," he says. "Yes, both of those things." 

"Oh, thank God," Foggy says, and holds on tight. "This would've been embarrassing if you had a bigger crush on Thurgood Marshall than on me."

"It's an intellectual crush," Matt protests. "Admiration of his mind."

"It's really not," Foggy says, and kisses the palm of Matt's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Six months between books is a punishing schedule for publishing. Marci probably wrote most of the books while looking for a job after Fisk's empire was dismantled.
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://val-mora.tumblr.com)! Feel free to come chat.


End file.
